Saturday, 27 August 2011

They Count In Numbers



No watery grave too shallow to welcome
Those, who cast in shadows and flatter mirth.
They bare the sedimentary scars of riverbeds,
With each pernicious step, they care less to
 Tread On spawning arts. An artful tongue imparts
With pseudo-praise, then pauses in suspension
Under silted masquerade. Panned-out, and
Exposed, they denigrate in sinful woes,
As they bleed ill-gotten schools. Water
Separates from blood and threads of mercury
Unspool, to raise the heat in wounded souls.
But, spawning arts will not retreat beneath
Those rocks; admit defeat. They want revenge,
For it tastes sweeter than a number.

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